


USS Horrible Unending Nightmare

by ssrhpurgatory



Series: Star Trek AU [1]
Category: Wolf 359 (Radio)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Star Trek Fusion, Deep Space Nine - Freeform, Post-Dominion War (Star Trek)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-28
Updated: 2020-12-28
Packaged: 2021-03-10 20:47:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 11,386
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28373397
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ssrhpurgatory/pseuds/ssrhpurgatory
Summary: In the aftermath of the Dominion War, Captain Isa finds herself commanding the USS Hephaestus on a mission into what was formerly the demilitarized Zone between Cardassia and Federation space, in search of rumors of a Borg incursion... and dealing with a piece of her past that she hoped she'd left behind forever.
Relationships: Alexander Hilbert & Isabel Lovelace, Isabel Lovelace & Original Female Character, Sam Lambert & Isabel Lovelace, Victoire Fourier & Mace Fisher
Series: Star Trek AU [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1592506
Comments: 1
Kudos: 1





	1. Chapter 1

_Twenty-five years ago_

Rwiari Ibreten hated visiting Vulcan. All those emotions being deliberately repressed made her itch under her skin. She had successfully managed to avoid the place for eight years, thank goodness, but today… today she was back again. For some matter concerning the one she had last been here for, according to the person who had called her here, though considering her cousin was eight years dead and the Vulcan woman whose actions had killed him had passed away not long after, Rwiari had no idea what it could possibly be.

A dark-skinned Vulcan man entered the room Rwiari was waiting in and nodded stiffly at her. “Miss Ibreten.”

“Selek. Are you going to tell me what this is about?”

“I told you—”

“Nothing, Selek. You told me absolutely nothing of use. Simply that it was important, and that it was related to that whole nasty business with your sister and my cousin, and that I ought to come at once.” Rwiari raised an eyebrow at him and reached out mentally, letting her mind brush at the edges of his. “So what is it?”

There was a sudden, guilty roil of emotion that was tamped down in an instant, though Selek’s face showed nothing of this internal turmoil. Curious. “Perhaps… it would be best if I showed you,” he said.

That slight skip of hesitation gave Rwiari pause, but she followed Selek out of the room, down the hall, towards the back of his home.

As soon as he opened the door to a small room, Rwiari flinched backwards. She realized after a moment that it was a child’s room, that there, on the bed, was a small bundle that was the child herself, wrapped tightly into a ball, projecting anger and fear—no, terror—so strongly that Rwiari almost felt it like a physical presence in the room.

“We have been trying to teach her how to control her emotions, but as she has grown…” Selek trailed off, no doubt feeling Rwiari’s own surge of anger.

“When, _exactly_ ,” she began, her voice at it’s iciest, “were you planning to tell me that your sister had a _child_ with my cousin?”

Selek shifted, visibly uncomfortable. “It was bad enough that her second _pon farr_ went so drastically wrong after her original mate died. This…” He trailed off into silence under the force of Rwiari’s glare.

“What’s her name?”

“Isa.” Selek’s face was showing visible signs of anxiety now. Well. The man had good reason to be worried. Rwiari was furious.

“How long has she been like this?”

Selek avoided looking directly at Rwiari as he answered. “On and off throughout her childhood. We have been trying to teach her to regulate her emotions, but progress has been slow.”

“Of course it’s been slow! She’s half _Betazoid_ , your methods wouldn’t make any _sense_ to her!” Rwiari kept her voice as calm and even as possible, not wanting to scare the child further, but hadn’t been able to keep all of her anger out of her voice. There was a shiver from the child on the bed, and Rwiari took a deep breath and pulled her own emotions back under control.

“Can you help her?” Selek’s voice had gained a tinge of the anxiety that was showing on his face.

Rwiari sighed. “I can try. But you and I are going to have a serious discussion later.”

“Thank you.”

_~Isa?~_ A careful voice rang in Isa’s mind, breaking through the noise that always echoed in her head these days. There was a stab of pain… and then the noise was gone, washed away like dirt in the rain. _~Isa, dear, can you hear me?_ ~

Isa didn’t dare open her eyes. She thought that this might be a dream. And if it was a dream, she didn’t want to wake up, because if she woke up the noise would be back again, and the noise _hurt_.

 _~I can hear you,~_ she thought as loudly as possible, and the careful, gentle presence she felt in her mind responded with a rush of warmth.

_~Good.~_

_~Who are you?_ ~

There was a moment where the presence seemed to be considering the best answer. _~I’m your Auntie Ri.~_

Isa frowned. Her uncle did not have any other sisters, and neither did his mate. Which meant… _~Did you come from my father? Are you going to take me away from here?~_

 _~I’m here to help you.~_ The touch of a gentle hand on Isa’s shoulder centered her in her body, and she realized suddenly that this couldn’t possibly be a dream.

Isa pried her eyes open. A fat, dark-skinned Betazoid woman was sitting on the edge of her bed, dressed in a brightly colored dress that glowed like a gem in the stark surroundings of Isa’s bedroom. Her hand was rubbing Isa’s back gently, and for the first time in months, Isa couldn’t feel the constant mutter of thoughts, couldn’t feel the sharp sting each time the people around her wrenched their emotions under control. There was just a gentle, floating warmth that went with the smile on the woman’s face. “You match,” Isa said out loud, then winced. Her throat was dry and sore.

The woman—Auntie Ri, she had said—helped Isa sit up and handed her a cup of water, and Isa sipped it cautiously. “Yes, these Vulcans are a repressed lot, aren’t they? Their face never matches what they’re feeling, and what they’re feeling always gets ignored.” Auntie Ri’s voice was full of a quiet amusement.

“It hurts when they do that,” Isa said, handing the glass of water back, two-handed because her hands were shaking.

“I know, darling.” Auntie Ri took the cup out of Isa’s hands and bent over to set it on the floor, and then carefully wrapped her arm around Isa and cuddled her close. Isa sank into the woman’s side with a sigh. No one she knew liked to touch other people, and Isa hadn’t even known that it was something she was missing in her life. “I don’t know if I can take you with me when I leave here, Isa, but if I can, I will, all right? I’ll bring you back to Betazed for a while.”

“Does everyone on Betazed match?”

Auntie Ri laughed. “Not everyone. But I think you’ll feel better there, at least for a little while.”

“If most people are like you on Betazed, I want to stay there forever,” Isa said stubbornly.

“Well, dear, I’m afraid you’re a Vulcan too, and I’m sure there will be a few things that only they can teach you,” Auntie Ri said, chucking Isa gently on the chin. “But I’ll make sure you’ve got the tools you need to survive here, one way or another.”

“Good.” Isa snuggled up against Auntie Ri’s side, as close as she could get, and shut her eyes… until her stomach rumbled. “Oh. I’m _hungry_.”

Auntie Ri laughed again, a warm chuckle that comforted Isa as much as the warm presence of her aunt in her mind. “Not eating for a day and a half will do that to you.” She went silent for a moment, though at the edges of her perception, Isa could feel the darting of… something. “There. Your uncle is going to bring you a meal.”

A short time later, Selek appeared in the doorway of Isa’s room, holding a tray that must have already been prepared. He gave them both a startled look, and Isa wanted to laugh. It was the most expression she had ever seen on her stoic uncle’s face.

“So quickly?” he asked Auntie Ri.

“She just needed someone to push back the noise,” Auntie Ri answered, rubbing Isa’s shoulder. “Someone who understands emotions, not someone who spends all their time repressing how they feel. And she needed touch, Selek. I know you Vulcans don’t go in for hugs, but physical contact is important for some of us _lesser_ species.” Auntie Ri’s voice was playfully sarcastic, and Isa suppressed another laugh as her uncle blushed.

“I will keep that in mind,” he said stiffly, and crossed the room, setting the tray at Isa’s side on the bed and kneeling so that he could look Isa in the eye. And then, cautiously, he opened his arms and held them out to her.

Isa tried not to cry as she fell into her uncle’s arms and let him hug her close. This close to him, she could feel the careful thrum of his thoughts, like a constant itch beneath her skin, but whatever Auntie Ri had done kept it from hurting as it once had.

She was going to be all right.

_Now_

Captain Isa of the USS Hephaestus woke in a cold sweat. It had been years since she had last spared a thought for the woman who had taught her about the Betazoid side of her heritage... that is, until now. Until she’d received an order from Starfleet Command to go into what had formerly been the demilitarized zone between the Federation and Cardassia and which was now… well, after the Dominion war, who even knew? But Starfleet Command had received a report of a Borg presence close to the Cardassian side of what had formerly been the demilitarized zone, and the USS Hephaestus was uniquely qualified to investigate.

But before they could, they had been ordered to Deep Space Nine to pick up some new crew members, along with a prisoner, a person from Isa’s past who she would have been glad to never see again.

Isa thought back over the conversation she’d had with Admiral Ngomo the day before.

“How do we even have passage that close to Cardassian space, ma’am?” she had asked, a question which had made the Admiral smile.

“Just as persistent with questioning orders that don’t make sense as you were in the Academy, Captain. And I’m sending a full briefing packet to you on a secure channel, but to answer your immediate concerns: you’re familiar with Rwiari Ibreten, are you not?”

Isa had frozen, remembering that day in the academy, when she’d been pulled out of classes and interrogated about her relationship to the Betazoid woman, who she had once called Auntie Ri. Remembering when she had been under investigation for months while trying to make her way through Starfleet Academy because it had become clear that Rwiari had been using her position in Betazed’s diplomatic office to spy on other species and had been selling that information to the highest bidder. When she come under investigation again for her connection to Rwiari after the Betazoid had served her sentence and had immediately joined the Maquis, using her telepathy to spy for them, her empathic abilities to influence others. “I knew her. Long ago. But I haven’t had contact of any sort with her for more than ten years.”

Admiral Ngomo had laughed. “Relax, Captain. We’re not planning to open up that investigation again. But she apparently knows quite a lot about the current Cardassian high command, at least enough to negotiate safe passage for you and your ship.”

“By which you mean she has blackmail material on some of them.”

The Admiral nodded. “Something like that.”

“And her conditions?”

“She’s coming with you.”

Those words had shattered Isa’s calm, and it had taken all of her mental training—so much of which had been influenced by Rwiari Ibreten over the years—to regain control over herself.

She had spent the rest of the briefing—and the rest of the day—in a daze.

But today… today she had put it off as long as possible. Today she needed to brief her command staff on the Admiral’s orders so that they would have some idea of the mess that was about to fall on their heads before they got to Deep Space Nine and were neck-deep in it.

Unsurprisingly, Lieutenant Ch’Laahrt was the most irritated. “You’re telling me that Starfleet Command expects us to integrate former members of the Maquis into our crew?”

“And the command staff.”

“Captain!”

“We’ve been working with a crew a only two-thirds the size a ship of this class requires for far too long, Lieutenant. I know that former Maquis might not be your first choice, but they were Starfleet once and they have sworn to be Starfleet again, and right now we need them.”

Ch’Laahrt glared, but shut up, obviously putting his overactive brain to thinking through the security measures he’d need to put in place just in case the Maquis didn’t reintegrate as well as Command hoped they would, and Isa moved on to the subject of their soon-to-be prisoner.

Commander Fisjer took the knowledge that he had a day and a half to make necessary modifications to the brig to allow for long-term occupancy with his usual good humor. “No problem at all, Captain,” he’d said.

Ch’Laahrt, on the other hand, looked as if he were about to have a fit of apoplexy. “Captain,” he protested through gritted teeth, “I would have appreciated a little more warning.”

“Yeah, well.” Isa shifted uncomfortably. On that, he was right, but she had been too disconcerted the day before to put together a proper briefing for her command staff. “You’ve got enough time to get done what you need to.”

It had taken the rest of the time allotted for the briefing to calm Ch’Laahrt down, and the briefing had run over while Isa went over the part that the science division would be playing in their little jaunt into Cardassian space. Vior and Qhiws had taken their part in it well enough; the pair of them had already made the Hephaestus one of the fastest ships in the fleet. Dr. V’Ginn, on the other hand… well, there was no telling what Dr. V’Ginn thought of the situation, though Isa suspected that, if the report of a Borg incursion was accurate, he would appreciate the chance to test some of his theories. And then, everyone was dismissed, all of them scrambling to get back on duty.

Before returning to duty herself, though Isa knew that there was one more thing she ought to do. A confession of sorts, to someone she hated confessing weaknesses to. V’Ginn always seemed to regard Isa with a vague sort of disdain for her un-Vulcan displays of emotion, and she didn’t like giving the man any more ammunition than he already had, but this conversation was necessary. She pulled him aside before he could leave the briefing room.

“Dr. V’Ginn. A word in private.” The doctor glanced down at Isa’s hand on his shoulder, and she pulled her hand back as if she’d been burned, despite the fact that he hadn’t had any emotional response to the touch.

“Captain?” A slight twitch of his eyebrow indicated impatience, the mental echo of that impatience quashed in an instant.

“It’s about our soon-to-be prisoner.” Isa swallowed hard. “Rwiari.” There, her voice had only cracked a little. Somehow, it had been easy enough to say that name during the briefing, but one-on-one with someone else… no. There was nothing easy about that.

“A Betazoid.”

“Yes.” Isa swallowed nervously. “She’s the woman who taught me to control my telepathy.”

V’Ginn’s eyes widened for a moment, but his mind was calm. “I see.”

“I’m telling you this because I want you to know that I have personal experience with the woman. You have to be careful with her. Make sure, absolutely _sure_ , that the regime of neural blockers is working on her.”

“May I ask why?”

“She’s the strongest damn telepath I’ve ever met. And on top of that, she’s a talented empath. She can talk anything out of anyone, and anyone into doing anything she wants them to do. I _don’t_ want her doing that on my ship.”

A brief frown appeared between V’Ginn’s eyebrows and was wiped away in an instant. He gave Isa a small nod of acknowledgment. “I understand. Will that be all?”

“For now. Thank you.”

Another small nod, and V’Ginn was gone. Isa knew she should return to duty, but instead she stood there in the briefing room for several long minutes after V’Ginn’s departure, taking deep breaths to calm herself.

She would make it through this.


	2. Chapter 2

Isa had more-or-less memorized the dossiers Starfleet Command had sent her on her two new officers by the time they reached Deep Space Nine, and felt cautiously optimistic about them both, despite the fact that they had been Maquis not all that long ago. Of course, the true test of whether she would allow them to be part of her crew would come when she met them.

To Isa’s surprise, Dr. V’Ginn had served with them both on his first posting as a full medical officer. Unfortunately, he seemed reluctant to say anything more about them than that he _had_ served with them, stating that it was illogical of Isa to suggest that some anecdotes from a decade ago would provide any insight into their current characters. She did manage to get him to say that the Klingon, Ranuyr, had been extremely organized as well as being an excellent navigator, but every time she brought up Doug Eiffel, V’Ginn would sigh and shake his head and refuse to answer.

“Do you want to come with me when I go to meet them? Catch up with old friends?” Isa had finally asked. The Hephaestus would be at Deep Space Nine within the hour, and Isa had spent the day roaming the decks, doing final check-ins with the crew, making sure everyone was ready for their new arrivals. After all, it wasn’t just two new command staff coming their way; a full twenty-five crew members of various ranks were joining their number, both former Maquis and new recruits, and there would no doubt be an adjustment period as duty rosters worked themselves out... and, more importantly, as her currently over-extended crew got a chance to take some much-needed downtime. Not that her CMO ever took the leave he did have time for, which was part of why Dr. V’Ginn and his little lab off the medical bay were her last stop.

Isa’s question about coming along made V’Ginn frown. “I would not say we are friends.”

“That bad, huh?”

“You know what happened aboard the Tiamat. A mutiny. Entire crew joined the Maquis.”

Oh. Isa hadn’t made that connection. “I’d forgotten that part of your file. First chance you had, you abandoned them for the Federation, didn’t you?”

V’Ginn nodded stiffly.

“Why?” Isa let the edge of her mind brush against V’Ginn’s, curious, suddenly, about what he valued over crew loyalty.

The mind she touched was cold and well-ordered, and had no emotional reaction to Isa’s question that she was able to sense. “The Maquis had admirable ideals,” he said. “But they did not have the resources to provide for scientific experimentation just for the sake of experimentation, especially when it had no immediate military applications.”

Isa snorted. Well. More or less what she’d expected of the man, as over-protective of his lab space as he was. “So there will be some tension between you and the two of them in command staff meetings, is what you're saying.”

“I will be professional.”

“But…?”

“But?”

“Well, there is a but, isn't there?”

V’Ginn sighed. “But perhaps it would be better to have Dr. Stukov take care of their non-emergency medical needs.”

“Then work that out with him.”

“Very well.”

“And here’s your reminder that we have three new medical staff coming in, so I expect you to have everyone’s schedule sorted out and a leave request for yourself put in by the time we’ve finished with this whole Borg thing, understand?”

V’Ginn stiffened and frowned, but all he said was “Yes, captain.”

“There’s a good doctor.” Isa straightened up from where she’d been leaning against a console and made as if to leave, and then paused. Perhaps V’Ginn’s cold, orderly mind could be of use to her. Or, at the very least, her own reluctance to do anything in front of the man to make him judge her ability—or lack thereof—to keep a firm grip on her emotions might be useful for what came next.

“Come with me anyway,” she blurted out. V’Ginn raised one eyebrow an infinitesimal amount and stared at her, and Isa cleared her throat. “I, uh. I need to go check in with station security when we get to Deep Space 9. I should introduce you to our prisoner while I’m there. If she’s anything like she used to be, you might find her...” Isabel considered how best to put it for a moment and settled on “...difficult. She’s difficult. And it’s probably best for you to get some idea of her personality before you’re expected to take over her medical care.”

V’Ginn blinked slowly, and then gave Isa a small nod. “If you think it would be beneficial to have me there, I am happy to be of assistance, Captain.”

“Don’t mind me checking in on you in person. It’s not every day we get a load of former Maquis through here.” Colonel Kira had a fixed smile on her face as she held out her hand for Isa to shake.

Isa took Colonel Kira’s hand in a firm grip. “No trouble at all for me, though if the commander of the station feels like she needs to meet me in person about them, it sounds as if they have been trouble for you.”

Colonel Kira laughed at that, and her face relaxed into a real smile. “Oh, just the usual dust-ups in Quark’s that we get when major crew changes happen aboard our station. Perhaps a little more reminiscing about guerrilla warfare than usually happens.”

“I’ll have to let my Chief Engineer know that might be a productive way to bond with his new subordinates. He was part of the resistance movement on Bajor too.”

Colonel Kira relaxed a little bit more. “I’ll have to take him out for a drink while he’s still on station.”

At Isa’s side, V’Ginn cleared his throat meaningfully, as if to say “get on with it.” Isa nodded his way. “My CMO. Dr. V’Ginn. He’s coming to take an initial look at the prisoner before it’s time to transfer her to the Hephaestus.”

“If you have records of latest injections, I would appreciate taking a look at those first,” he said, he and Colonel Kira nodding acknowledgments of the other’s presence at one another.

“Of course,” Colonel Kira said. “I can pull them up over here.” She stepped around the security desk, the security staff member who had been standing there automatically moving out of her way, and V’Ginn followed.

Isa took a deep breath. Well. Might as well get the initial meeting out of the way while she was on her own. “I’m going to go check on the prisoner, if that’s all right.”

Colonel Kira glanced up with a quick smile. “Of course.” Her eyes flicked towards one of the security officers in the room. “Take her back to where you’re keeping Rwiari Ibreten, all right?” And then her attention was drawn back to V’Ginn, who was requesting more records.

The security officer, another Bajoran, nodded at Isa. “This way, Captain.” Isa followed her past the cells they obviously used for people being held on minor charges—several of the occupants were visibly inebriated—to a small room at the very back of the holding area. There were two guards there, one outside a door that locked manually and one in the room itself, and the security officer who had lead Isa down the hall left her there. Once inside the room, a force field cut the room in half, the half behind the force field a cell even more spare than the ones she’d passed by on her way back. Isa almost wanted to laugh—so much security for a middle-aged Betazoid woman who was so short she didn’t even come up to Isa’s chin!—but someone at Starfleet Command had obviously thought it necessary.

And, given what Isa had heard over the years—hell, with some of the things she’d seen Rwiari do herself—the precautions were probably necessary.

There was a strange, painful tension in the air as Isa stepped into the room. Rwiari was curled up on the narrow bunk on her side of the forcefield, her back to Isa and the guard who was in the room with them. “Could I have a moment alone?” Isa asked.

The guard nodded and made towards the door. “And let me know when Dr. V’Ginn gets here, all right?” Isa called after him.

“Yes, sir.”

The curled up body on the bunk shifted a bit, and a round, familiar face peered overa shoulder at Isa, blinking blearily. “Oh,” Rwiari said in a hollow voice. “It _is_ you.”

“You look awful,” Isa said as Rwiari hauled herself into a sitting position. Her hair was a tangled mass, hanging around her shoulders; she was wearing a faded jumpsuit that was too tight around the middle and so long that it sagged in the crotch. The arms and legs of the jumpsuit were cuffed so many times that the bundles of fabric at Rwiari’s wrists and ankles had turned into fat little sausages of fabric. And of course, there were the depredations of age: wrinkles that Isa had never seen before on Rwiari’s face, hints of silver in that mass of hair. All in all, a far cry from the perfectly coiffed and beautifully dressed woman Isa remembered so well from her childhood.

Rwiari examined her wrist with a wry sort of smile on her face. “Yes, well, they don’t exactly give prisoners replicator credits. And the last time I asked for a comb, you’d have thought I was asking for a phaser.”

“Hm.”

“How have you been, darling girl?”

“Don’t call me that. It’s Captain, now.”

“I heard.” A brilliant smile spread across Rwiari’s face. “Congratulations. Your own starship.”

“Oh, don’t pretend that a Starfleet rank means anything to someone like you.” Isa was surprised by the vitriol in her own voice. “Selling Federation secrets to alien governments, Rwiari? Really?”

Rwiari laughed, and for a moment Isa could only see the woman who had, long ago, stepped in and helped her gain control of her mental abilities. “So is that what they told you about me?” she asked, a smile creasing her face all the while. “That I’d been using a privileged position to sell data to the highest bidder?”

“I don't want explanations or excuses, because even if you have them for that incident, you ran off the instant you had parole in order to join the Maquis. And I _do_ know that you gave them knowledge they couldn't have acquired any other way than with a telepath.” Isa took a deep, calming breath, and smoothed her emotions out, the way that Rwiari had taught her to doso long ago. “And people died because of that. People I knew. People I cared about. So as far as I'm concerned, you're a criminal, and I plan to treat you like one.”

The smile didn't quite leave Rwiari’s face, but it seemed to be pasted on now, more in common with a rictus than the easy grin it had been. “I assume, then, that I will be making my home in the ship’s brig for the duration of my time aboard your vessel?”

“Yes.”

The smile fell entirely from Rwiari’s face, and Isa’s heart fell with it. “I see.” Rwiari’s voice cracked a little on those two words.

There was a knock on the door, and Isa shoved the feeling of having once cared for this woman like family away. “Let me introduce you to my CMO. He's the only one who is aware of the former personal relationship between us. Let's keep that knowledge to the three of us, all right?”

Rwiari pasted the smile back on her face and nodded. “For you, darling girl, anything.”

Isa shoved the familial feeling down again. She would have suspected Rwiari’s empathy to be at play, but she was certain that it was simply the woman’s presence that was causing this effect. Isa went to the door and let V’Ginn in.

To Isa’s sudden amusement, Rwiari seemed to be sizing the dour doctor up as he entered—and not, Isa thought, as an opponent. No, that was the look her Auntie Ri got on her face right before she started a campaign of flirtation with whoever it was she was looking over. Isa wondered if she should warn V’Ginn, but after all, Isa _had_ tried more than once to get V’Ginn to lighten up a little with no luck, and Rwiari… Rwiari was much, much more experienced at teasing others into congenial moods. So as little as Isa was looking forward to having the Betazoid aboard her ship, it suddenly had a good deal more amusement value attached to it than she had previously thought.

“Dr. V’Ginn,” he said with a stiff little bow in Rwiari’s direction.

“Well hello. What _do_ we have here?” Rwiari was smiling like a cat that had gotten into the cream, though it wasn't clear whether or not V’Ginn had realized the danger he was in. “You didn't mention that your doctor was such a handsome young Vulcan, Captain,” Rwiari purred. “You could have warned me to prepare myself.”

At that, V’Ginn’s eyes opened wide, startled into an open expression of surprise.

“You know I don't spend much time considering the relative handsomeness of any males, Rwiari,” Isa shot back drily.

“Well. I'll be _very_ glad to work closely with you on dampening my mental powers, doctor,” Rwiari continued, still looking V’Ginn over appreciatively.

V’Ginn shot Isa a look of despair that left her stifling a sudden attack of the giggles. “Surely I could leave this task to the EMH,” he said.

Isa shook her head. “Nope. Has to be you. She's a hell of a programmer on top of her other talents, and the last time they tried to treat her with an EMH she somehow managed to hack in to the system through the projector and went without neural blockers for nearly two weeks before someone noticed. Didn't you, Auntie Ri?” The affectionate version of Rwiari’s name slipped out before Isa could stop it, and she flinched at the look of delight on Rwiari’s face.

But all Rwiari said was “It was only once. Well, maybe twice,” in a mischievous tone of voice. The woman had already been a menace fifteen years ago; she had clearly only become more so with age.

V’Ginn gave the Betazoid woman a dubious look. “If the EMH is out of the question, surely you could order her not to be so… so…”

“Flirtatious? That's just how she is. And she’s a civilian, so technically I can’t order her to do anything of the sort, even if she _is_ a prisoner. You'll just have to learn how to cope with it.”

“I would like to request that someone else is in the room at all times,” V’Ginn said stiffly.

“Believe me, doctor, there will be at least one security officer to escort her. I promise,” Isa said. “Preferably two.”

Rwiari made a face, but did not comment further.

“Very well.” V’Ginn made another stiff bow to Rwiari. “It was good to meet you, Miss Ibreten.”

Rwiari shot the doctor another flirtatious smile. “Oh, _please_ , call me Rwiari.”

“I will not,” he said, and turned to Isa. “If that is all?”

“Yes, I think so. Introductions have been made. Go on your way.”

V’Ginn gave Isa a little bow as well, and left the station’s brig. Isa turned her attention back to Rwiari. “Do you have to be like that?”

Rwiari appeared to be trying to look innocent. “Like what?”

“An irrepressible flirt.”

Rwiari gave a nonchalant shrug, or at least what Isa had thought was meant to be a nonchalant shrug. But Rwiari’s shoulders were stiff and tense, the movement jerky. Isa frowned and looked her over, remembering the strange tension she had felt when she’d entered the brig, before Rwiari’s blinding smile had chased those feelings out of Isa’s mind. She’d thought it had just been her own discomfort with the woman, but perhaps…

On closer examination, Rwiari’s entire body was stiff and tense, her limbs locked in place, little lines of tension drawn deep among the wrinkles at the corners of her eyes and mouth. This wasn’t the relaxed and carefree Auntie Ri that Isa remembered so fondly from her childhood. She found herself wondering what had brought this change about. Had it been Rwiari’s years of spying? Her time in the Maquis? Or had it been a more recent development?

Isa couldn’t touch Rwiari with the force field in place, but she sent a little mental probe in the woman’s direction, just to see if she could spot anything out of the ordinary. Isa was certain that even with her empathy and telepathy shut away, Rwiari would still have the same sort of mental discipline that she’d drilled into Isa all those years ago, when Isa had so desperately needed it.

It was a shock to Isa to encounter instead a vast tangle of anxiety and panic and fear and _pain,_ all of it right near the surface of Rwiari’s mind, so harsh and overwhelming that it left Isa reeling back physically from the cell in which Rwiari was contained.

“I should go as well,” Isa said in a shaky voice, turning the involuntary backwards step she’d taken into a half-turn, hoping that she’d hidden her reaction.

“Of course,” Rwiari responded, a little smile playing at her lips once more. “You have a starship to captain.” Isa turned away, but Rwiari called after her. “Isa? I’m so proud of you, my girl.”

Isa flinched and left the brig as fast as she possibly could without breaking into a run.

V’Ginn was waiting for her outside of the security office, a deeper frown than was customary sitting on his face. “Did you feel it?” he asked Isa, without preamble.

“Feel what?” Isa asked, but of course she already knew what her medical officer was referring to.

“She is in pain,” he said, his voice low and disapproving. “She is smiling like that, and flirting, but under it all she is in pain.”

Isa sighed. “Yes. She… she’s a very strong telepath. It’s always been so much a part of who she is. I think she’s used to being able to touch the minds of everyone around her, to adjust her presentation to be what’s most pleasing to them. But if she’s been without that since she was put in prison…”

“That would explain it,” V’Ginn said. He sighed as well. “It seems cruel. I know that she is a criminal, and that she cannot be trusted, but if dampening her mental abilities is causing that amount of pain…”

“I’m sorry you have to be the one to take care of it. But there really isn’t any other option.”

“I will manage. Perhaps I can find some alternate drug regime. Dampen her powers without snuffing them out entirely. Give her a little bit of the security she is used to.”

Isa clenched her jaw. “I'm sorry, doctor, but you can't. Not with the way she is.” Isa took a deep breath and forced the tight muscles of her face to relax a little. “You'll just have to cope with it.”

V’Ginn stared into the distance for a long moment, and then nodded. “Yes, Captain. I understand.”


	3. Chapter 3

V’Ginn took leave of Isa, heading back towards the shuttle bay, but she felt the urge to linger a little longer. Perhaps it was because she had never been on Deep Space Nine before… or perhaps it was just a side effect of her current mental turmoil. Fortunately, a distraction appeared, in the form of Colonel Kira joining Isa outside of the security office and leaning against the outside wall next to her. “Your CMO is…”

“A pain in the ass?” Isa suggested lightly, hoping to lift her own mood.

Colonel Kira smiled in response. “No more than CMOs usually are, in my experience.” She tilted her head to one side and considered Isa. “You have time for a drink?”

Isa tried very hard not to smirk at the obvious way the Bajoran was feeling her out. “I’ve got some time before I’m due back on the Hephaestus.” Not strictly true; she suspected that V’Ginn hoped to head back immediately, but she also knew that he wouldn’t dare protest the delay beyond an irritated eye-roll when she saw him next. “I was going to take myself on a short tour of the station, but if you’re offering…”

“I’m technically off-duty,” Colonel Kira said. The corner of her mouth quirked up into a twisted little smile, and Isa felt the mental echo of the Colonel’s firm conviction that there was no off-duty when one was in charge of a space station. “And I’d be happy for some company for, say, the next couple of hours?”

Isa raised an eyebrow in response and tapped her badge. “Isa to V’Ginn.”

“Yes, Captain?”

“Head back by yourself. I’ll catch one of the crew shuttles later tonight.”

There was a moment of silence, and then a very crisp “I will see you aboard the ship, sir,” from her CMO.

Isa turned to the station’s commander, smiling broadly at her. “My evening is free.”

Colonel Kira’s smile turned into a proper one. “Then you should call me Nerys.”

Two hours later—a very busy and satisfying two hours later—and Isa made her way back to the shuttle bay, where the first shuttle of new crew members for the Hephaestus was loading up. To her amusement, Ch’Laahrt was piloting it himself; it was clear he had wanted to get a good look at them before they wound up on his ship.

Unusually for him, he reacted to her appearance by relaxing, and Isa knew exactly why. She cast her mental nets wide, absorbing impressions of the crew members around her. This one had an itch on his spine that he couldn’t quite reach, that one had eaten something dubious from the Klingon restaurant aboard the station and was regretting it now, that one hadn’t slept because she’d been up half the night with what Isa gathered was a rather cute little Trill Lieutenant. Isa could sympathize, given how the last two hours had gone.

But no sign of anything dangerous among them. She pulled her perception back, rebuilding the walls around her mind, and nodded at Ch’Laahrt.

If he were less of a stick in the mud, he probably would have sighed in relief, but instead he just nodded back and almost smiled.

Isa pushed her way to the front of the shuttle and settled into the co-pilot’s seat, no doubt displacing one of Ch’Laahrt’s deputies. One of them had been out on the shuttle deck, watching over the new crew members as they boarded.

“You know I always look over new arrivals, Lieutenant,” she murmured, leaning close while carrying out the co-pilot’s half of the necessary pre-flight checks.

“You didn’t come back with Dr. V’Ginn,” came his accusatory response. “I wasn’t going to leave this to chance. Not with former Maquis coming aboard.”

“Understood. Though I’m sure they’ve all had complete psychological profiles done as well. Mental scans and everything.”

“I don’t trust Starfleet Command,” he muttered back. “I trust you.”

Isa stifled the laughter that was attempting to escape her. “Wow, is that an actual compliment? Never thought I’d see the day.”

Ch’Laahrt glared at her. “Oh, don’t get used to it.”

Isa let the laughter out, getting another glare from Ch’Laarhrt, but no further commentary. She and Ch’Laarhrt finished the pre-flight checks as the shuttle doors closed. A few minutes later, they got clearance to leave from Deep Space Nine, and were on their way back to the Hephaestus.

Vior was a scientist, and always had been. A good one, too, and Fisjer had always told her that she was wasted on engineering shifts, even as he had been pathetically grateful for an extra set of hands attached to someone who learned quickly after so many of the Hephaestus’s engineers had been injured or killed during the Dominion war, especially with replacements so hard to come by. She, meanwhile, always argued back that her engineering shifts made her better at at the theoretical side of her work. And they had, too; she and Qhiws had made more breakthroughs in warpcore dynamics in the months since she had started going hands-on with her research than had been made on any other ship in the fleet.

But now, with new engineers coming aboard, she found herself worrying that Fisjer would find excuses to keep her out of the Jeffries tubes, relegating her to unproductive days spent in the lab or in a holodeck, programming in parameters that would never give her as much hard data as getting her hands dirty on actual ship repairs had. So she decided to make her case to him, cornering him in the brig, where he was making the final adjustments to the cell that was going to be holding their prisoner, stating her reasons for remaining on the occasional engineering shift as clearly as possible.

“So you see, it helps my work, and it will help your work too, won’t it?” she concluded, hastily adding “To have another engineer on hand who knows all the Hephaestus’s quirks, that is, with all these new engineers coming on board,” when Fisjer turned towards her with dubiously raised eyebrows.

“Hand me that hyperspanner, would you?” Fisjer asked, gesturing towards the tool box. “And I don’t know why you’re asking me. Captain’s in charge of crew allocations.”

“I already did,” Vior fibbed, the lie tripping easily off her tongue. After all, the Captain wouldn’t dare gainsay her Chief Engineer if Fisjer wanted Vior on engineering shifts. “She told me to ask you first.”

Fisjer looked up from his work in order to frown at her, clearly still dubious. “Did she, now.”

Vior couldn’t keep up the lie in the face of his disapproval. “Well, all right, she didn’t, because I haven’t asked her yet. But I thought if I asked you first and you just kept me on engineering shifts like you have been, she wouldn’t notice.”

Fisjer turned back to the open panel in front of him. “The Captain notices everything.”

“Well, she wouldn’t mind, then.” Vior settled on the floor at Fisjer’s side. “You know she always says that she trusts you to run your department as efficiently as possible. Surely that latitude extends to deciding who’s on engineering shifts.”

“You’re going to keep pestering me about this until I say yes, aren’t you?” Fisjer said, shooting her a rueful grin.

“I do not pester,” Vior said with a superior little sniff. “I _argue_. Logically and coherently.”

“Go argue with the captain, then.”

“At least say you’ll put me on shifts if the captain approves it.”

“All right, little one, all right,” he said, a laugh on his voice. “You get the Captain’s approval, and you can pick up as many engineering shifts as you want.” He pointed the hyperspanner at her in a threatening manner. “But you have to actually talk to her about it, understand? You’ve got to get over your fear of her some day, so no coming back to me and saying you have when you haven’t, all right?”

Vior had been planning to do exactly that, followed by hoping that the laid-back Bajoran wouldn’t bother to follow up with the Captain. But it sounded as if Fisjer _would_ follow up with Captain Isa... and she didn’t _dare_ get caught in the middle of a lie between the two of them. “Fine,” she said, lifting her chin. “I’ll go ask her as soon as she’s back from the station.”

“She didn’t come back with V’Ginn?” Fisjer grunted as he wrenched a tight connection loose through brute force.

“No, she stayed over there for a little while. Something about the station’s commander taking her on a tour?”

“Ah,” Fisjer said knowingly. “Though she might be Nerys’s type.”

“Nerys? Who is Nerys?”

“Colonel Kira Nerys, commander of Deep Space Nine,” Fisjer said. “Hand me that decoupler, would you?”

Vior took the offered hyperspanner back and set the decoupler in Fisjer’s waiting hand. “Are you saying that she’s... that they’re... how do you even known Colonel Kira, anyway?” she babbled out, every question too urgent to wait.

“Bajoran resistance. Met her a few times, though I didn’t know her name back then. It was safer not to.” He wiped sweat off his brow with his sleeve and turned to Vior with a cheeky grin. “And as to what they’re doing together... well, you’d best hope it’s something that’ll leave the Captain in a good mood.”

Vior took the mild scold as it was intended, and snapped her mouth shut on the rest of her questions.

Lieutenant Ranuyr Minkowski was nervous.

She would never admit to nerves, of course, for all that Lieutenant Dax had diagnosed her with such the night before; it wasn’t becoming of a Klingon to admit to being nervous, and even being raised by humans from a young age had done little to change that aspect of her personality. But the nervousness lingered all the same.

At her side, Officer Eiffel fidgeted. “Honestly, I think we should sit down. I can’t imagine the captain would care...”

“Eiffel, if you do not remain at attention I will see to it that your first assignment aboard this ship involves scrubbing the public toilets.”

“I’m not sure you’ll have the authority to do that, sir.” But he remained at attention at her side, or at least as at attention as he ever got, and right now Ranuyr would take that.

She had to make a good impression on the captain. There was too much riding on it. Not just her own future, but the future of the program she was a part of, the rehabilitation and reintegration of Maquis renegades into Starfleet.

Oh, there were plenty of former Maquis who would never take the path she had chosen, plenty who would serve their time and then do their best to turn their backs on the Federation as a whole. But there were more like her, who saw reintegration as a chance to try once more to change Starfleet from within.

Of course, there were also the Doug Eiffels of the universe, content to drift along in no particular direction until they found themselves up to their necks in trouble with no way out. After serving with him for the better part of a decade, between Starfleet and the Maquis, Ranuyr had just enough misplaced affection left for the man that she had dragged him with her into the program that found them here, their ranks at least partially restored, once again preparing to serve on a Starfleet vessel. After all, if she left him to his own devices, she had no doubt that he would drink himself to an early death in a year or two, if not sooner.

The door to the briefing room whooshed open, and their new captain stepped in. Ranuyr found herself studying the woman curiously; Captain Isa had taken command of the Hephaestus during the Dominion War, when the ship’s former captain had died in battle, and she had lead the Hephaestus to one victory after another in the time since, leaving Starfleet Command little choice but to officially award her the captaincy of the ship now that the conflict with the Dominion was over. This had made Isa the youngest captain in the fleet, and the youngest Vulcan captain ever.

Captain Isa was studying Ranuyr in return, her dark eyes intent on Ranuyr’s face. And suddenly Ranuyr was struck by something she hadn’t noticed when she had first seen the captain in person, out on the loading dock, where she’d been greeting each new arrival in turn: Isa’s eyes weren’t just dark, they were a pure, solid black, no distinction between pupil and iris. Which must mean that she was...

“Part Betazoid, yes,” Captain Isa said, a smile crinkling the corners of her eyes. “Half, to be precise.” The smile fell from her face and she nodded briskly. “At ease, both of you. And for goodness sake, sit.”

Well. Ranuyr was definitely going to have to be careful with her surface thoughts. She sat down hurriedly at one of the chairs around the table that filled the center of the room, but couldn’t bring herself to relax. Officer Eiffel, it seemed, was having no such troubles; he collapsed into his chair with a grateful sigh and almost immediately slouched forward, his elbows on the table.

“So. Welcome to the Hephaestus,” Captain Isa said, that un-Vulcan smile still on her face. “We’ve been in need of a new navigator for a while, and I think once Lieutenant Ch’Laahrt learns how to to let go and relax, he’ll appreciate not having to play Chief Security Officer and Comms Officer all at once.”

“Thank you for this opportunity, sir,” Ranuyr said, wincing internally at how stiffly her voice had come out.

Captain Isa let out a little laugh. “I said _relax_ , Lieutenant. I’m not judging you for the choices you made in the past. I’m only going to judge you on what I see, here, on my ship. So as long as you don’t get any big ideas about shooting me in the back and mutinying again, you’ll be fine.” A little smirk quirked the corner of her mouth up. “And there’s no hiding _anything_ from me on this ship. Understand?”

Ranuyr considered what might result, if the combined telepathic powers of both a Vulcan and a Betazoid manifested in a single person. No, it probably _wasn’t_ possible to hide anything from her.

And Captain Isa seemed to have followed this train of thought; she nodded briefly, as if Ranuyr had said those words out loud. “Glad we understand one another.”

Officer Eiffel just looked lost. “So, uh. When am I next on duty?” he asked.

“Your duty roster will get sent to your berth,” Captain Isa said, all business once more. “But I expect both of you to be present at the command staff briefing at 0800 tomorrow morning. Until then, feel free to spend your time settling in. You’ve got free movement on the ship, and are welcome to use the recreational facilities.”

Doug perked up at that. He’d replaced his alcohol addiction with a holodeck addiction for a time, and among the Hephaestus’s recreational facilities were a number of holodecks. Ranuyr thought she would probably need to keep an eye on him, just to make certain he did not start backsliding into unhealthy behavior.

“Oh, and…” Ranuyr snapped her attention back to Captain Isa, who sounded as if she were about to deliver bad news. “I should probably warn you both. You’ve worked with my CMO before, and I don’t want you to be blindsided by it at tomorrow’s briefing.”

Ranuyr only wondered for a moment who it could be, and then she knew. Someone she’d trusted. Someone she had once considered a friend, someone who had stabbed them all in the back for the sake of his research. Her jaw clenched angrily. “You’re talking about Doctor V’Ginn.”

Captain Isa nodded.

Officer Eiffel turned almost as green as a Vulcan. He’d had a fling with the man while they’d both served on the Tiamat, and had taken V’Ginn’s almost immediate defection back to the Federation even harder than Ranuyr had.

“Are you two going to be able to serve on this ship?” Captain Isa asked. “Or should I ask Command to reassign you?”

Command had made it incredibly clear to Ranuyr that this was their one chance of reintegrating, their one chance to prove that they could serve again. And if not this… well, she did not know what she would do with herself. She relaxed her clenched jaw and sighed. “Will he be providing our medical care?”

“He’s arranged for his second to be in charge of that.”

“Then I think we can manage. Can’t we, Officer Eiffel?”

Eiffel’s face was a picture of distress, but at least he answered her prompting question appropriately. “Yes, Lieutenant. Captain.”

“All right.” Captain Isa stood. “You’re dismissed. Enjoy your evenings, see you tomorrow, and _don’t_ start any fights on my ship, you hear?”

“Yes, Captain,” Ranuyr and Eiffel chorused mindlessly.

They stayed seated a little longer after the Captain left them, Ranuyr, at least, needing time to process the news that Captain Isa had just given them.

“Why would they put us on the same ship as him?” Eiffel asked hesitantly into the silence.

“I don’t know,” Ranuyr admitted reluctantly. “Maybe it’s a test.”

“Testing us? To see, what, if we really mean it?” Eiffel let out a hollow mockery of a laugh.

“Or testing him. Trying to see if he really is the perfect little automaton of a Federation Science Officer that he seems to be,” Ranuyr said viciously, her anger surging back into existence.

But deep inside, she was certain that it was a test for two of them.

And more than that, she was certain now that Command wanted them to fail.


	4. Chapter 4

V’Ginn was reviewing the instructions for the neural blockers he was supposed to use on Miss Ibreten when security lead her into the medical bay. She was still wearing that ridiculous, over-long jumpsuit, though it looked as if someone might have run her—and the jumpsuit—through a sonic shower, and given her limited use of a comb. She beamed when she caught sight of V’Ginn, so far from the usual expression most crew members had on their faces when they needed to come to him that he took an involuntary step back.

“Doctor. I'm so _pleased_ to see you again so soon.”

“Of all the illogical races, Betazoids are the worst,” V’Ginn responded. “There can be nothing pleasurable about our interactions for you.” He continued setting out the sequence of hyposprays he would need to use on her over the next hour or so. Making sure the drug regime she was on to shut down her mental powers took hold was a long and complicated process. This neurotransmitter, and wait; that manufactured molecule, and wait again, this drug, that element, all in the proper sequence, all interspersed with brainwave scans to be sure that they were working as intended.

Miss Ibreten laughed at his verbal parry, and the roiling pain that lay just under the surface of her mind released a little. “If you're trying to convince me to stop flirting with you, I'm afraid you've just done the opposite,” she said, the laugh still in her voice.

The security officers who had accompanied Miss Ibreten were watching bemusedly, and V’Ginn could not blame them; he knew he had a certain reputation for sternness, and the only person on the ship who dared to tease him was the Captain. It was obvious now that the Captain’s penchant for trying to tease him into betraying an emotion was learned, and this woman where she had learned it.

“I wish to start with a physical,” was the only thing he said in response, though part of him was hoping that she would continue her ill-advised attempts at flirting; if nothing else, he thought that it was giving her some measure of control over the situation, something she obviously needed for the sake of her mental state.

“Mm, planning to get me naked so soon? You do move quickly, doctor.”

One of the security guards, a young Terran woman, let out a choked noise that V’Ginn suspected had hidden a laugh. He opened his mouth to deny any such intentions—after all, his scanners ignored clothing completely—and then hesitated. That jumpsuit was _truly_ awful, which was most likely contributing to the painful tangle of Miss Ibreten’s mind. And all of that extra length provided more than a few hiding places, should Miss Ibreten attempt to steal something she could use as a tool. From the report V’Ginn had read on her, she was resourceful and adaptive…and definitely should _not_ be allowed to keep an article of clothing that would only enable her mischief.

“The scans will certainly be more efficient if you remove your clothing first,” V’Ginn said mildly, and nodded at the security officers. “If you would?”

The Terran stepped forward and removed the cuffs on Miss Ibreten’s wrists while the other officer, a short little Tellarite, kept her hand on her phaser. V’Ginn nodded his thanks, and then raised his eyebrows at Miss Ibreten. “Well?”

Her own eyebrows had climbed her forehead the instant he had made his request and seemed to be stuck there. “Hasty, hasty,” she murmured. And then she kicked her way out of the useless paper shoes she had been wearing and stripped efficiently out of the over-long jumpsuit—dumping it off to one side with an expressive look of disgust—and stood there naked.

The material of the jumpsuit had obviously not been kind to her skin; there were obvious patches of chafing, several inflamed, at every place where the jumpsuit had pulled too tight around her torso and thighs. He set that down mentally as a mark against the wardens at the Starfleet prison facility she had previously been housed at, and continued looking her over with a clinical eye. Wrinkles and loose folds of skin betrayed the fact that she must have lost a good deal of weight in the recent past, and that made him frown; for all that she still carried more mass than the average humanoid of her height, he suspected that she needed to gain a good twenty kilograms or more to truly be considered in good health. Another mark against her previous wardens.

“Would one of you take that,” V’Ginn gestured to the jumpsuit where it lay on the ground, “And retrieve an appropriately-sized replacement from the replicator? I will forward measurements once I have done the initial scan.”

Miss Ibreten made no move towards the jumpsuit as the Tellarite stepped forward and scooped it off the ground, but her complete lack of care was just as suspicious as such a movement would have been. “And search it before you feed it into the replicator,” he added.

The Tellarite nodded, and made for the other end of the medical bay.

Miss Ibreten gave V’Ginn a wide-eyed, innocent look as he stepped in close, tricorder in hand, to begin his initial scan. “And just what do you suspect me of smuggling, doctor?”

“I do not know. Turn around.” She turned obediently, and he ran the tricorder down the length of her spine, frowning. There were incisions—healed well enough to fool a visual inspection, but all too apparent to a tricorder—at the base of her skull. Incisions that did not match any part of the medical history he had been given for her. “What are these?” He reached up and pressed his fingers to the surface of her skin, just where the incisions would be if they were visible from the outside, and found he had no choice but to jerk his hand back immediately. The incisions were right over a pair of nerve endings, which seemed to almost be vibrating sympathetically with the pain in her mind.

“What are what, doctor?” If Miss Ibreten had noticed anything when he had touched her, she was showing no sign of it.

“You have had a surgery here?” This time he pressed the probe of the tricorder against her instead of risking that pain again, but the scan revealed nothing more than it already had.

“Not that I’m aware of.”

V’Ginn let his mind brush hers. The truth, that, or the truth as she knew it.

The Tellarite returned just then. “The replicator is waiting for measurements. And I found these—” she held out a hand, with three bobby pins, a holocube, and a logic solid nestled within, “rolled up in her sleeves.”

“Not smuggling anything, hm?”

Miss Ibreten didn’t answer. She simply stood there stiffly as V’Ginn ran the tricorder over the holocube and logic solid. He frowned briefly at the results. “Computer, inform Lieutenant Ch’Laahrt that he is needed in Sickbay.” He nodded a direction at the Tellarite, and she set the small handful of items aside, both of them studiously ignoring the Terran security officer, who was was patting her complex hairstyle and looking guilty.

V’Ginn finished his scan and forwarded the necessary measurements to the replicator. “Well. On the bed.”

“Aren’t you going to join me?” The crude foray, still said in that flirtatious tone, had lost some of the lightness that had characterized her earlier flirtations. V’Ginn wondered if there was some past doctor or warden who _had_ decided to take advantage of her in that way; after all, with her mental powers snuffed out, she did not have much in the way of natural defenses… and several of the drugs he was about to administer would most definitely leave her vulnerable physically.

“No,” he said. “I realize you have not consented to this…” he gestured to the row of hyposprays laid out beside him, “but I assure you now, I will touch you no further than I must to carry out my duties.”

There was a sharp little intake of breath from Miss Ibreten, and a particularly harsh snarl of pain rose to the surface of her mind for a moment. “Forgive me if I don’t take your word on that right away, doctor.” Her voice and expression were brittle, just for a moment, and then a smile smoothed out the expression on her face, if not that snarl of pain in her mind.

One of the nurses appeared at his side just then with the jumpsuit from the replicator, and he set the tricorder aside so that he could shake it out and examine it. Good. Close-fitting enough that she would be hard-pressed to hide anything too large between it and her body, sleeves and pant legs the right length for her relatively diminutive height, no pockets, all fastenings soft, interlinking plastic that would be difficult to turn into any sort of tool. “Get dressed,” he said, offering the jumpsuit to Miss Ibreten.

She made a face. “Did it have to be beige?”

“Do you have any right to complain?”

A rictus of a grin flashed across her face for a moment. “I suppose not.” She took the jumpsuit and pulled it on, letting out a contented sigh as she fastened up the front and stretched. “Oh, it feels good to be in clothing that fits.” She shut her eyes, looking pleased as she smoothed her hands down the front of her new jumpsuit, the snarl of pain in her mind smoothing away as she did. “Better if I pretend it’s purple.”

“Mm. Now, on the bed.”

“Yes, sir.” Miss Ibreten was teasing him again, and V’Ginn shook his head. Enough like the captain to be unsettling.

“What’s this, then? I was in the middle of something,” came Ch’Laahrt’s voice from behind him.

“So am I. Just a moment, Lieutenant. Let me get started.” V’Ginn checked the first vial again and picked up the hypospray. “This will make you drowsy,” he warned Miss Ibreten.

“Because it’s not as if I haven’t been through this process every few weeks for the past three years,” Miss Ibreten grumbled as she tilted her head to one side to give him better access to her neck. “Of course I have no idea what symptoms to expect from the component parts.”

V’Ginn set the hypospray aside and picked up the tricorder again. Good. It appeared to be working its way into her system. “She does not leave the bed,” he said to the security officers. They nodded, both alert, and V’Ginn turned to Ch’Laahrt and picked the data solid and holocube up off the counter they were sitting on. “Our prisoner had these on her person.”

Ch’laahrt frowned down at them. “Nonsense. The security scan would have picked them up.”

“Unless they were given to her by someone already on the ship, after your scan.” V’Ginn suggested.

This got a deeper frown from Ch’Laahrt. “None of the new crew members have been near her since she was brought aboard, which means it would have to be someone who was here before her.” The thought was obviously disconcerting to Ch’Laahrt.

“You did a final scan of the cell before putting her in there?”

Ch’laahrt glared at V’Ginn. “I’m not an idiot, doctor.”

“Simply attempting to rule out all possibilities,” V’Ginn said, and downloaded the tricorder readings he’d taken to the console. “There is one other option. Take a look.” He pulled up the scans he had taken of the two items.

“Residue from her digestive tract. And…” Ch’Laahrt studied the readout. “Sonic shells,” he said decisively. “They were inside her. The shells would have shielded them from the security scan, helped them blend in with usual metabolic activity, and they would have only been disrupted when she was put through the sonic shower.”

“I wondered. Wanted a second opinion.”

Ch’Laahrt looked mollified, obviously forgiving V’Ginn for his insult to Ch’Laahrt’s intelligence. “And the bobby pins?”

“I do not know. They were here when I got here. Perhaps they belong to one of the nurses.” As a lie, it wasn’t a good one; V’Ginn could not think of a staff member in his department who had hair long enough to use bobby pins regularly, and Ch’Laahrt was no doubt doing the same mental math. But for once, the uptight Andorian didn’t push, and from behind him, V’Ginn could feel a surge of relief from the Terran security officer.

“Very well. I’ll take these for evaluation.”

“Remember to use a console that is isolated from the ship’s main systems.”

“Again, doctor, I’m not an idiot!” Ch’Laahrt called over his shoulder as he left the med bay.

V’Ginn turned back to the medbay bed, where Miss Ibreten was most definitely _lounging_ , her eyes half-lidded and sleepy, a sweet little smile playing on her lips. “He’s not going to find anything interesting,” she said in a slow, relaxed voice.

V’Ginn ignored her and picked up the second hypospray, checking it over. “Some nausea may result.”

“I haven’t vomited on myself yet.”

V’Ginn sighed. This woman was ridiculous. “And you hopefully will not today, either.”

After that second hypospray, Miss Ibreten became so groggy that she ceased her distracting forays into teasing him, something the security officers set to guard her seemed to find disappointing. He got through the rest of the treatments and verified that they were doing their work before releasing her to the custody of the security officers once more, to be carted back to her new cell.

For some reason, his mind kept slipping back to her once she was gone. He was not certain why. Perhaps it had been the way she had tried not to show how pathetically grateful she was for the new jumpsuit, as meager an offering as it had been. Perhaps it had been the way she made several of the incongruous observations he had made of Captain Isa suddenly make sense.

Or perhaps it was none of these things.

Whatever it was, he hesitated a moment before he went off duty that night, and forwarded Miss Ibreten’s measurements to the replicator once more. He would hand the results over to a security officer to give to her, of course. No need to be there when she received it.

He just hoped it was a shade of purple that she liked… and that having options for what to wear would help her feel as if she had a measure of control over herself, and commensurately decrease those painful snarls of emotion that made it so difficult to be in the same room as she was.


End file.
